A Yuu Yuu Carol
by JaganshiKenshin
Summary: Twas the night before Christmas, but Urameshi Yuusuke was not feeling 'the Spirit.' Can his friends help him-or will they drive him around the bend?


Disclaimer: Kenshin does not own the Yuu Yuu Hakusho characters (they are the property of Togashi Yoshihiro et al), and does not make any money from said characters. Don't sue.

What Kenshin does own, however, are all the original characters in this work. Any attempt to "borrow" these characters will be met with the katana, or worse.

Title: A Yuu Yuu Carol

Author: Jaganshikenshin

Genre: General, Humor

Rating: G

Summary: Merry Christmas, Urameshi Yuusuke!

A/N: (As of 12-08: The conclusions of both _Death by Hiei_ and _Portrait of the Demon_ must await, while I post this pastiche of Charles Dickens' classic Christmas tale.) Poor Yuusuke, who sometimes gets short shrift in my fics, gets to play the starring role here.

My apologies to Dickens and the entire YYH cast! This piece of sheer silliness plays with both _A Christmas Carol_, and Yuusuke's epiphany in the second episode of the anime. Look for a couple of cameo appearances. The events in this one-shot take place somewhere after both _Idiot Beloved_ and _Firebird Sweet._

"Expect the first Spirit at the stroke of one!"

A Yuu Yuu Carol

by

Kenshin

Urameshi Yuusuke was not dead this time (although he had been declared dead countless other times). That fact must be distinctly understood or nothing wonderful can come of this tale.

To the contrary. Yuusuke was alive. Alive as a tree frog in spring, or something equally hoppish and noisy.

Indeed, the hero of our tale had just spent this day of December 24th, not in rehearsal for the school Christmas play as he should have, but working off his bad mood by beating up thugs from the rival high school of Ouran.

For all that he was well-knit and of a most keen countenance, having sleek black hair with greenish highlights, and bright brown eyes, and a ready grin, wherever Yuusuke went, lesser thugs quailed at his appearance, or found themselves much the sorrier for having challenged him to a contest of fisticuffs.

Lately, Yuusuke had been in a black mood indeed, while those closest to him, as if to personally rub salt in his wounds, swathed themselves in the merriment of the season, caroling, meeting for drinks, and shopping.

Now it was night, and wanted but a few short hours till Christmas Day. Urameshi Yuusuke paused in the middle of the street and gave a jaw-cracking yawn. He was tired, and just the slightest bit lost, because his final victim---an undersized but smart-mouthed junior with wispy blond hair---had sneered that Yuusuke punched 'like a girl.'

Yet that particular minuscule target had proven swift as well as cunning. Yuusuke was forced to chase him all the way to the junior's home turf, to administer the much-needed, and not even remotely girlish, thrashing.

A cutting blast of wind only served to remind Yuusuke that not only was he alone, but the night was cold and cloudless, and that he wore only a t-shirt and jeans.

His breath frosting on the air, Yuusuke wandered up and down the neighborhood, growing fainter and more dispirited by the moment---until he came to a spooky old house.

Cheerless and wan it might have appeared, but he had been there before, and at once recognized its strange, many-gabled countenance. Still, any port in a storm would have to do.

So up the walkway he went to Yojigen Mansion. "Funny that I should end up back here," he said.

But being a rather casual sort, and by no means possessed of a deeply philosophical nature, Yuusuke did not allow this development to worry him overmuch.

What he did allow to worry him, nay, possibly vex him, perhaps even task him, was the fact that the door-knocker resembled Botan's head.

"Ain't no way I'm pounding on the door with THAT." So, the hour being late, and he badly in need of a little shut-eye, Yuusuke simply jimmied the lock and went inside.

He found himself in a darkened hall lined with many doors. On the wall to his right was a full-length mirror. As the Spirit Detective studied at his own countenance, its very lack of a shopping bag only served to remind him that, in spite of shopkeepers having set out their most tempting wares, he had forgotten to buy Yukimura Keiko a Christmas present.

"Oh, well, plenty of time for that." Yuusuke tried to flip the light switch, only to discover that the electrical system was as dead as a doornail.

So, rather like a well-trained spaniel, he lay on the floor, covered himself with scraps of newspaper, and went to sleep.

But his slumber was soon interrupted by a bright flash of light. As he opened his bleary eyes, a well-rehearsed female voice shouted: "Urameshi Yuusuke! Wake up!"

"Go 'way," he mumbled.

But the voice insisted: "In life, I was your partner!"

The newspapers blew off him. He blinked sleepily, to see a familiar figure balanced on her oar: Botan, clad in a flowing white kimono and an expression of great determination.

"KYAA!" Yuusuke leapt to his feet. "Botan? What are you doing here? At least you could knock."

"With that scary old doorknocker?" Slipping a giant compact from her sleeve, Botan opened it and powdered not her face, but her hair, rendering it as white as the kimono.

A thoroughly bemused Yuusuke wondered, "What's with all the white stuff, Botan?"

"Just setting the mood!" Thus attired, Botan gave him a ferocious scowl. "And I notice you don't have any shopping bags, which means you never bothered to buy PRESENTS!"

"And what's with all this 'in-life' stuff, too? Don't tell me I'm dead again."

Ignoring his inquiry, Botan waggled her fingers and addressed him in a deep, spooky stage voice, "Urameshi Yuusuke! You stand accused of behaving like a self-centered, combative, boorish jerk---in other words, a teenage boy."

"But I _am_ a teenage boy!"

"That's exactly why you need a good lesson." Botan waggled her fingers at him again.

"Hey, if I want lessons, I'll stay in class for a change."

"Not so fast," she said, dismounting to grab Yuusuke's ear and drag him to a window. "Take a look at that piteous sight."

Yuusuke peered through the window. There in the street slunk the boy Yuusuke had pummeled earlier in the evening.

"How awful," said Botan. "Poor Tiny Tim!"

"So that's his name," chuckled Yuusuke. "Fits."

"Don't you even care that he's crying because you so heartlessly bloodied his nose?"

The kid dabbed his eyes with a sleeve tattered by Yuusuke's relentless fists. "Yeah, well, he cries like a girl."

"You are completely heartless!"

"Hey, I've got a reputation to protect. And it only took one punch."

"So you're as stingy with your fists as you are with Christmas presents!"

Yuusuke strove desperately to work that one out, but failed. "Look, I'm in a lousy enough mood already without your lectures."

"Oooo!" Botan clenched both fists. "Urameshi Yuusuke, that is all too typical of your callousness!"

"Who's callous?" Yuusuke favored Botan with a smug grin.

"Then why don't you go out and help poor Tiny Tim?"

"Sure. I'll help him into the nearest trash can!"

"That's it, Yuusuke." Botan stamped an angry foot. "Have you nothing more to say in your own defense?"

"Uhh, humbug?" retorted Yuusuke, surprised to find the unfamiliar word leap to his lips. Yet it seemed in keeping with the situation.

"I thought as much. Looks like you're going to have to go through this ordeal after all."

"Botan," he groaned. "I've had enough of ordeals to last several lifetimes. Lemme go back to sleep, willya?"

Snapping her fingers, Botan materialized a large grandfather clock in the corner of the room. "Expect the first Spirit at the toll of one." She fluffed up her white hair. "Whether you're asleep or not!" Then she vanished as she had come.

"Spirit? What's she talking about? That girl is nuts!" Muttering, Yuusuke once again covered himself with newspapers and lay down on the floor. But no sooner had he shut his eyes than the grandfather clock tolled one.

The newspapers were shredded by a familiar weapon, and a familiar cry yanked Yuusuke's eyes open again: "Rose Whip!"

"Aww, c'mon, Kurama." Rolling over, Yuusuke rubbed his sleep-crusted eyes. "Botan can get away with this sort of thing, but knock off the jokes, willya? That Rose Whip could have cut me to shreds."

"If I meant to cut you," replied Kurama, "I assure you that at this very moment there would be pieces of Yuusuke strewn all over the mansion. Your mistrust wounds me to the core. Nevertheless, rise, and walk with me."

"Do I have to?"

"You have to."

Sitting up, Yuusuke beheld the person standing before him, and blinked.

Then blinked again. The voice was certainly Kurama's, but in appearance, he was all Youko, complete with long white hair, flowing white garb, and fluffy white ears.

"Kurama!" Yuusuke gaped in astonishment. "What gives?"

"Didn't you hear the clock strike?" The fox-spirit lifted an eyebrow. "This time, _I_ get the gloomy role."

"Gloomy?"

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past!" Kurama brandished his Rose Whip, then twirled in front of the mirror. "The white hair and gown really say 'ghost,' don't they?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever. Now can I get back to sleep?"

"Not a chance, Yuusuke. Bear but a touch of my Whip, and you shall be upheld in more than this!"

"Yeah, sure, whatever all over again." Yuusuke reluctantly got to his feet, and, careful to steer clear of the thorns, prodded the handle of the Rose Whip with his pinky.

"There's a stout lad," said Kurama.

"Who are you calling fat?"

"You should try attending a vocabulary class just once, Yuusuke." There was a definite peevish snap to Kurama's voice now. "I'm merely getting into the part, for heaven's sake. And now, Urameshi Yuusuke.... Behold your sordid past!"

With a snap of his Rose Whip, Kurama made the house dissolve, and much to Yuusuke's astonishment, they were flying.

"I thought only Koenma could pull a stunt like this," muttered Yuusuke, shivering in the rush of cold wind.

In no time at all they had reached Sarayashiki junior high. Kurama again flourished the Whip and they stopped, hovering a few feet above the school. Night turned into day. "Look, Urameshi Yuusuke," said Kurama, "and see yourself as a boy in school. Do you recall this place?"

"Kurama," Yuusuke said, "This was what, like last year?"

Kurama gave a long-suffering sigh. "Just watch."

And Yuusuke watched, with the curious sensation of viewing a not-very-good film. He saw himself in quick succession beating up so many kids he lost count, saw himself beating up Kuwabara without even remembering his name, saw himself being extremely rude to Keiko, and skipping classes right and left.

Shrugging, he turned to Kurama. "So? If they gave out letters for bailing school I'd be class valedictorian."

"Please, Yuusuke, just let me play my part." With a snap of his Whip, Kurama dissolved the current scene and brought them to the interior of a warehouse on the docks, where they hovered unseen above the action. The Yuusuke of yore was there, along with Kurama, Hiei, Botan and Keiko.

Kurama turned his golden eyes to Yuusuke. "Recognize this?" "Sort of, but---" Yuusuke frowned. As he regarded the action, he saw himself defeating Hiei, then grabbing the Kouma no Ken for himself---to stab Kurama with the very same sword.

Kurama made a little clucking noise. "Such behavior, Yuusuke. And after all I've done for you."

"Hey!" Yuusuke glared indignantly at Kurama. "That's not how it went down. Hiei was the one who stabbed you, not me! If you're going to accuse me of stuff at least get your facts straight."

"You want facts? How's this?" With another snap of the Whip, Kurama brought them to another place: a daylit street, just outside a neighborhood cinema, where Yuusuke was busily abandoning Keiko at the door. "She asks so little of you."

"Yeah, just that I stand still and let her whale on me," muttered the Spirit Detective.

"Keiko was so overjoyed when you agreed to take her to the movies," continued Kurama. "Alas! That poor, innocent, trusting girl waited for hours," said Kurama. "And you never showed up, never even made an excuse."

"But I was on assignment for Koenma---saving Tokyo from those stupid Makai bugs! And I saved Keiko, too. You know that as well as I do, Kurama. In fact, you joined me on the mission."

"Lalalalaaaaa, I'm not liiiisteninnnng!" sing-songed Kurama.

"With those ears? Impossible."

"I see no reason to stand here and be insulted," huffed the fox-Spirit. "Expect the next Spirit at the toll of two!"

And with that he gave a final snap of his Whip, depositing Yuusuke back at the house---several feet off the ground.

Yuusuke thumped painfully to the floor. "I can hardly wait," he grumbled, rubbing a sore elbow. "I save Tokyo, and this is the thanks I get? How about buying _me_ a Christmas present instead of sending every nut job on the planet to give me grief? Humbug, I tell you." Covering himself with the last scraps of newspaper, he curled up and drifted back to sleep.

But this time, it wasn't the tolling of the clock alone that woke Yuusuke. It was also the braying laughter of someone he knew well.

Lurching to his feet, still half-asleep, Urameshi Yuusuke stumbled into the next room.

Kuwabara Kazuma sat in front of a roaring fire, surrounded by a cornucopia of food that included tekka maki, ramen, cheeseburgers and watermelon.

Yuusuke's old rival-in-fisticuffs-become-friend was clad in a long coat made of green fur trimmed in ermine. A floppy, pointed cap of the same material perched jauntily atop his carrot-colored pompadour. He did not look like a Spirit so much as Santa Claus gone horribly wrong.

"Oi, Urameshi!" With a cheerful wave and a toothy grin, Kuwabara grabbed Urameshi's shirt and took off, yanking him out a convenient window and straight up into the sky. "We're sorta runnin' late," Kuwabara explained, as they soared through the clouds. We gotta lotta stops t' make, so hurry it up, wouldya?"

"Why is everything always my fault? Humbug, I say."

That's just the way it is," replied Kuwabara. "My job tonight's to get you to be less selfish."

First Kuwabara dragged him to the Immaculate Heart church in Shinjuku. Dumping them both unceremoniously in the church's foundation plantings, Kuwabara pushed Yuusuke up against a stained-glass window.

"Looka this!" Melodramatically pointing at the window, Kuwabara scowled at Yuusuke.

"Look at what?" Yuusuke matched his scowl and raised him another. "It's a stained glass window. Do I get a prize now?"

"Father Brian's inside, leading the choir in Christmas Carols."

"Okayyyy." In fact, now that Kuwabara had pointed it out, Yuusuke could hear faint, sweet voices raised in harmony. "And?"

"And you're not in there with them!"

"Of course not. I'm no choir boy."

"I'll say."

"And I'm not even Catholic."

"So? This is just one more example of you bein' selfish an' only thinkin' of yourself and stuff. So hurry it up, Urameshi, I gotta get to my Christmas party with Yukiiiina!" As was typical of Kuwabara, at the mere mention of the Ice Maiden, hearts and stars whirled in his eyes. Grabbing Yuusuke by the hand, Kuwabara pulled him out of the foundation plantings, leaving a web of scratches on Yuusuke's bare arms in the process.

"Ow. Watch it, willya?"

"Sorry. I'm supposed to show you people shoppin' for presents an' havin' dinner an' all sorts of neat stuff about the Christmas spirit, but Yukina's waitin', so we only got time for one more thing." Kuwabara was still tugging the Spirit Detective away from the church, when a fire-haired girl stepped outside and paused, her breath puffing in the cold.

"Even better!" Kuwabara beamed, waving to the girl. "Hey, Shay-chan, you can take it from here, right?"

Without awaiting the girl's reply, Kuwabara jumped into the sky and flew off.

Yuusuke started after him, but was unable to spring aloft. Running down the street in pursuit of the flying _faux_ Santa, he shouted, "Hey, Kuwabara, wait---"

"Yuuuuuusuke," purred a familiar voice. "Ohhh, Yuuusuke. Stand still for a minute."

Yuusuke stopped, then turned to have a look at the girl.

Shayla Kidd wore a cranberry-red wool coat and a long scarf of fluffy white. A festive ribbon-bedecked candy cane was pinned to her collar.

And she had her gun out. The Beretta Cheeta spun in her hand like she was the gunslinger in an old TV Western, and it made a pinwheel of silver flame in her white-gloved hand.

"So where to now?"

Smiling, she aimed the gun in his direction. "Now? Now, Urameshi Yuusuke, you're going to pay."

"Pay for what?" spluttered Yuusuke. "Besides, we like each other, remember? You once told Hiei I was 'practically an American.' What'd I ever do to you?"

"Details, details," sniffed the little Spellcaster. And with that, she pumped him full of lead.

But to Yuusuke's astonishment, he felt no pain. In fact the bullets passed straight through him. Yuusuke looked down at his unharmed body. "How's this happening? I thought I wasn't dead again this time."

"Search me." Shrugging, the girl loaded another magazine into her Beretta.

Before she could take aim again, Yuusuke took off. Discretion in this case was surely the better part of valor.

"Hey, wait," called Shay-san. "I'm not done yet! I haven't finished shooting you! And expect the next Spirit at three!"

"You two aren't even _Spirits_," Yuusuke shouted over his shoulder.

"Neither am I, jackass." That voice! Yuusuke halted in surprise, allowing Genkai to leap from the shadows of a conveniently-placed alleyway and cuff him in the head. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"KYAA!" Reeling from the blow, Yuusuke steadied himself. "You old hag, can't you even give me a break for one second?"

"When you haven't repented?" Genkai clenched her fists. "If bullets won't stop you then maybe fists will."

"Look, I get the point, so lay off me!"

"Oh, stand still and fight like a man."

"Why does everybody have it in for me tonight?" Yuusuke spun, then pelted down the street, noticing that the jewelry stores, the greengrocers and convenience stores were all shutting down. It was too late to shop for Keiko's gift. Indignation arose, washing out every other feeling: "Humbug, I tell you!"

He ran on, only to screech to a halt when he spotted Yukimura Keiko.

His childhood friend and classmate was strolling down the street toward him, preoccupied with numerous brightly-wrapped parcels clutched in her hands.

"Gaah!" Yuusuke shivered, grabbing fruitlessly at his t-shirt in an effort to keep warm. "Not Keiko, too?"

Keiko had not yet spotted him. And given the way everyone was behaving toward him tonight, he might find no welcome there, which would be the last straw. Yuusuke looked around for someplace to conceal himself.

It began to snow. In fact, as Yuusuke glanced into the sky, the snowfall became a veritable blizzard. In moments, the ground was covered in white drifts. Keiko stopped to tuck her packages carefully under one arm while she pulled out a hat and gloves. As she struggled to put them on, Yuusuke seized his one chance, and dashed down a side street---just as the clock tolled three.

He ran, noting that the street seemed devoid of life, which perfectly suited him. He was now in no mood for any further discourse with other living creatures.

"Humbug, I say!" Panting from both exertion and annoyance, he fled down the unfamiliar snow-covered boulevard, slipping and sliding, hoping to make it back to the bleak and cheerless shelter of Yojigen Mansion before next year rolled around.

It was late indeed. All the shops and residences were shut, the streetlamps making the snow sparkle like rhinestones. "At least I managed to avoid Keiko," he sighed, blowing on his icy hands to warm them. "She's the worst of the lot."

"That's what _you_ think." At the end of the street, a black-clad apparition stepped out and blocked Yuusuke's way.

Shrouded head to toe, his face remained unseen, and he moved in a stately fashion, raising a pale hand.

Yuusuke skidded to yet another halt, his feet plowing up a flurry of snow.

Slowly, slowly approached this last phantom. As he drew ever closer, his very appearance filled Yuusuke with a churning sense of dread, yet his feet seemed frozen to the ground. He cleared his throat: "A-are you the third Spirit?"

There was no reply, yet the phantom continued to advance. And when they stood mere inches apart, the apparition unwrapped the scarf that had been concealing his head, shook out his black-flame hair, and spoke. "It's me---Hiei."

Yuusuke let out an explosive breath. "A silent guy dressed in black?" He rolled his eyes. "How unlike you, Hiei."

"Well," countered Hiei, "who else did you expect to play the part of Christmas Yet To Come?"

"Sensui?"

"Naah. These parts are reserved for the good guys."

"So you're a good guy now?"

"Yuusuke, you wound me." Hiei placed a hand on his heart. "Deeply. Now come on, I have to scare the pants off you."

"And where'd all this snow come from?" Yuusuke pointed at the winter wonderland.

"We're in the realm of the Kourime, which, by the way, is a severe violation of their Constitution, since you're male."

"So are you!"

"Yeah, but I have a special dispensation from the Pope."

Yuusuke flung up his hands in sheer disbelief. "Now I've heard everything."

In reply the fire demon pointed a dramatic finger. "Are there no prisons? Are there no workhouses?"

"Gimme a break---I never said that!"

"I'm sure you thought it, though. And that's good enough for me. How about you two?" With that, Hiei drew back his mantle to reveal that he was not alone.

Clinging to his left leg was a boy of about seven years old, resembling Hiei in miniature. To the boy's right, a little girl of like age, the very image of her mother, gazed up at him.

"Michael? CeeCee?" Yuusuke rubbed his eyes. "What gives? The last time I saw them, they were only toddlers."

"This is Christmas Yet To Come." Hiei snorted. "Get with the program, would you? And the kids insisted on tagging along. What can I say, we spoil them rotten."

"This girl is Ignorance," murmured Yuusuke, thinking of something he had heard in English class on a rare day when he hadn't skipped out. "And this boy is Want---no, wait, the boy's Ignorance, the girl's---"

"Daddy!" wailed Michael, turning his tear-stained face imploringly to his father. "Uncle Yuusuke called me ignorant! And after I inherited your perfect memory!"

"And he called me greedy, or something," sniffled Cecilia.

"All right, all right," Hiei soothed. Then he turned his gaze to Yuusuke. "Listen, Yuusuke, you've got some good qualities, and you're a natural leader. But you resisted the efforts of the others, so they sent in the heavy artillery. I have no choice but to hit you with the Kokuryuuha."

"The Black Dragon Wave?" Yuusuke's eyes bulged. "Are you nuts? With your kids standing right here?"

"Technically, they're clinging," said Hiei. "Maybe you're right about the Dragon, though. Awfully powerful attack. But a fistfight in the snow? With kids around my ankles? No way. And you know how my swords tend to break at crucial moments. Still---maybe I had better scare the crap out of you in some other way."

"But, Daddy," pleaded the little girl, turning her shimmering gray eyes on Hiei, "I wanna see you use the Black Dragon Wave on Uncle Yuusuke!"

"Yeah," echoed the boy, with a great show of enthusiasm. "Blow him away!"

"Well..." said Hiei, smiling down at the twins indulgently. "All right. But just this once!"

Backing away, Yuusuke gave a yelp of protest. Nevertheless Hiei stripped off the black gauntlet that warded his Dragon. The snow melted where Hiei stood. Indeed the very air bent, as if twisting in fear and agony. Arcane black fires flickered all round Hiei's body.

"No!" Whirling, Yuusuke ran down the snow-covered street, but could not move fast enough. And far too close for comfort, he heard Hiei's deadly snarl: "Jaou Ensatsu Kokuryuuha!"

A flash of blinding light struck him, furled him like a leaf, and folded around him. There was a searing pain, and then he was falling, falling a great distance, and the only sensation was his stomach leaping up into his throat.

At last, he stopped falling. Opening his eyes, Yuusuke found himself hovering near a ceiling. Below him was Koenma's desk.

"So I'm back in this place again?" Yuusuke looked around.

Koenma had the big video monitor on, yet it showed nothing but white static. Koenma's blue oni, Jorge, was almost hidden by a stack of paperwork teetering next to the desk sign. The sign read: YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE DEAD TO WORK HERE, BUT IT HELPS.

_Koenma must have yanked me out of Hiei's way just in time_, Yuusuke thought.

Koenma reached for the remote control and turned off the monitor. "Well," said the toddler, dusting off his hands. "That about wraps this baby up."

"Wraps this baby up?" Bowing and scraping in an excess of servility, Jorge Saotome contrived to laugh. "Oh, Sir, that was monumentally clever of you!"

"It was, wasn't it?" Koenma poured himself a cup of tea.

"Oh, swell." Still floating above the desk, Yuusuke folded his arms. "Ignore me, why don't you? Well, at least that's better than shooting me or something," he added darkly.

"Everyone has to move on." Koenma gave the paperwork a jaundiced glance. "I guess Yuusuke ran out of luck at last."

"And to think that all he needed to do was learn his lesson," sighed the oni.

"What lesson?" Yuusuke demanded. "That the entire world has it in for me tonight?"

"Well," continued Koenma, "as I said, tough luck, but no one will really miss him."

"No one at all," agreed Jorge.

"Hey, I'm right here! A joke's a joke, but---"

"He made a lousy Spirit Detective anyway." Koenma picked up his official stamp, glanced at the paperwork, then put the stamp down again in favor of another sip of tea. "Even that nut job Sensui did better, at least for a while."

"You're right, Sir," said Jorge unctuously. "When you're right you're right, and you're always right."

"Hey!" Yuusuke cupped both hands around his mouth. "Isn't anyone gonna answer me?"

"Well, then." Koenma drummed his fingers on the desk. "Who should we put in Yuusuke's place? Kurama's too busy. What about Kuwabara? Or maybe Hiei?"

"Don't forget, Sir, that we also scheduled a Reikai yard sale to pawn Mr. Urameshi's clothes off."

"Better sell his schoolbooks too, while we're at it," said Koenma. "After all, they're virtually unopened."

"What?" protested Yuusuke. "You're selling my _stuff?_"

"Too bad Mr. Urameshi didn't repent before it was too late," said Jorge.

"Okay, okay, thanks for saving me from the Dragon, now will you both stop pretending I don't exist?"

But still the blue oni and Koenma blithely nattered on. "Ah, well," sighed Koenma, "can't wallow in the past forever. Yuusuke's dead for good, so let's ask Botan who she'd rather work with. Seeing what Hiei did to Yuusuke, my money's on Kuwabara."

"Unless Botan is actually grateful to Hiei, Sir!" chortled the oni.

"Dead for good?" said Yuusuke. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Koenma fixed Jorge with a basilisk glare.

"All right, all right," said Yuusuke. "I admit it. Beating on small fry like Tiny Tim is kinda cheesy."

"Sir?" Jorge wrung his hands again.

"Never forget I'm supposed to have all the funny lines," said Koenma.

"How could I, Sir? And may I say that was one of your best?" The blue oni slapped his knee in feigned merriment, and caused the teetering pile of paperwork to crash to the floor. Papers flew all around the room.

"C'mon, what do you mean, dead for good?" Yuusuke felt his face and hands grow cold. "No, wait, this can't be!"

Still Koenma ignored him. Jorge made a clumsy grab for the papers while Koenma berated him.

"I can't be dead," Yuusuke insisted, swatting at the papers that flew past his head. "Not for real! Think of all the times I stopped some demon from trashing humanity. Think of all the fights I'll miss." His declarations failed to move them. In frustration, he aimed a blow at Jorge, but his fist passed right through the oni.

_Oh, no!_ The very same inability to interact with the real world had also occured the first time he had been dead. With that ineffectual blow, Yuusuke knew at last the gravity of his situation. A lump welled in his throat.

"And I never bought Keiko a Christmas present," he recalled. "Koenma, please, can't I have one more chance? I'll do it right this time, I promise!"

But Koenma did not address him, did not utter a single word of comfort. Papers fluttered about the room, thick and fast like snowflakes, covering Urameshi Yuusuke in a storm of white, until he could no longer see.

0-0-0-0-0

Urameshi Yuusuke awoke to the sounds of raucous laughter and the dry flurry of papers.

"In another minute he'll start eating them," giggled Keiko.

He stilled his thrashing limbs, opened his eyes and sat up. Newspapers lay scattered on the floor around him. "Where---?"

Then he saw that he was back in Yojigen Mansion, only this time, in the room with its merrily blazing fire, the halls decked with boughs of holly, a radio playing Christmas carols.

He was surrounded by people he knew: his mother, Botan, Genkai, Keiko, Kuwabara, Yukina, Hiei, Shayla Kidd! Gathered round a little table playing cards: Kurama, and Kuwabara Shizuru, and Kaitou Yuu---everyone was there!

Kuwabara was seated close to the fireplace on a comfy divan, and as close to Yukina as he dared with Hiei on hand. Botan was fussing over a sideboard that groaned with food and drink. Vigorously stirring the punch bowl, she waved at Yuusuke.

"Humbug?" said Botan, with a fixed stare.

"Humbug?" echoed the puzzled Spirit Detective.

"Humbug," repeated Botan, holding out a candy dish. "You know, those little molasses mints that are all stripy and chewy? Really, really good." She popped one in her mouth and beamed.

Yuusuke heard the distant toll of church bells. "What day is it?" he asked eagerly.

"It's Christmas Eve, Yuusuke," everyone chorused.

"Then I haven't missed it!" Filled with a sense of elation bordering on joy, Urameshi Yuusuke pumped a fist in the air. "The Spirits have done it all in one night!"

"What are you blabbering about, Bonehead?" Seated on the floor in front of the fireplace, Genkai shot him a withering look. Botan hurried to offer her a Humbug.

"If it's spirits you want," added Urameshi Atsuko, "come and have some sake." She gleefully waved a half-empty bottle at him.

"Nothing for me, thanks," murmured Shay-san from a nearby cushion that she shared with Hiei. She was bent over a delicate piece of work, to which she frequently applied a white cloth. "I'm cleaning my gun."

"And I'm polishing my sword," echoed Hiei.

"And I'm staying far away from you both," murmured Yuusuke.

But he couldn't help himself--- so happy was Yuusuke that he cut a mad little caper, much to the disgust of Kuwabara. "Looks like Urameshi's finally cracked," Kuwabara said.

"It was only a matter of time," agreed Atsuko.

"I always did think he'd be the first to end up in a nut house," opined Kaitou.

"He just needs some strict discipline," added Kurama.

"Say what you like about me, my friends!" Yuusuke flung out his arms as if to embrace the entire world. Nothing could vex him now! Grabbing Botan by the hands, Yuusuke whirled her around the room.

"I didn't know you could do the Polka," she marveled.

"I _can't_."

"Yuusuke," cried Botan, "you've taken leave of your senses!"

"I haven't taken leave of my senses, I've come to them." Letting go of Botan, Yuusuke skipped to the sideboard and rummaged through the drawers, muttering, "Now where is it? Where, where, where? I must find---"

"What are you looking for?" asked Genkai.

"I need to find some money so Tiny Tim can afford to go to the hospital," he explained.

"Tiny Tim?" Genkai gave Botan a puzzled glance.

"Just some snotty junior who forced Yuusuke to teach him a lesson and bloody his nose." Botan waved an airy hand.

"Hospital? For nothing more than a bloody nose?" Genkai was incredulous. "What a girl."

Finding no money in the drawers, Yuusuke silently vowed not to bloody Tiny Tim's nose again, no matter how great the temptation. Gazing fondly at the assembled crowd, he sighed, "You guys are the best." Then he settled back upon the floor.

Keiko came to sit next to him. "So you're awake at last." She smiled. "Kazuma-kun wanted to dip your finger in a bowl of warm water, but I wouldn't let him."

"Wow," breathed Yuusuke. "You did that for _me?_ Thanks!"

Over at the game table, Kurama looked up. He was playing poker with Kaitou Yuu and Kuwabara Shizuru. Catching Yuusuke's eye, he gave him a wink. "These two are skinning me alive, but I don't mind. It's the Christmas spirit."

"Sure feels great to be beating you at something," added Kaitou, adjusting his eyeglasses. "As for Shizuru---"

"I never lose at anything but love," she sighed.

But such a spirit of merriment and gratitude was upon him that Yuusuke still could not contain it. No, he must dance, he must caper, he must stand on his head!

He settled for leaping back to his feet. "I'm just so happy to be here with everyone and not dead for the third time that I want a group hug!"

His suggestion was met with a stony silence, but even that could not dampen his spirits. "C'mon, everyone, how about some Christmas carols?"

"Sure doesn't feel like Christmas in here." Kuwabara tugged at his collar. "Must be about eighty degrees."

"Don't say 'that' word," Botan hastily interjected.

"What word?" Kuwabara was all innocence.

"I know!" Yukina rose, before any Taboo could be broken. "How about if I make it snow?"

"Really?" bubbled Yuusuke, touched beyond belief.

"Anything to help spread some Christmas cheer," Yukina assured him.

"Anything to shut Urameshi up," added Kuwabara.

Soon, a crystalline ballet of snowflakes appeared, sifting down everywhere, even on Yuusuke's hair. "Hey, this is great! Isn't this great, everyone!" He put out a tongue and tasted a snowflake. "How great is this, huh?"

"It usually snows outside," said Kuwabara, but Yuusuke didn't care. He was too full of the Spirits of Christmas.

Shayla Kidd put aside her gun to raise her voice in the sweet sounds of _Adeste Fidelis._ One by one the others joined in.

And when the song ended, Yukina ended the snowfall.

For a few moments they sat admiring the effect. Then a feeble knock sounded at the door. "I'll get it!" Yuusuke hurried to open the door. "Maybe it's Koenma."

But it was not Koenma. It was Tiny Tim, cap in hand, his lip trembling, a twist of bloodied tissue still stuffed up his nose. He gulped hard, then blurted, "God bless us, every one!" With that, he turned and bolted back down the snowless street.

Yuusuke felt someone join him: Genkai.

"Beautiful world," said Genkai at length.

"Sure is," Yuusuke agreed. "Thanks, Genkai. Sometimes, I forget." Together, they gazed silently at the night, with its jewel-box of stars, until Kuwabara hollered for them to shut the door.

That done, Genkai demanded to be dealt into the game of poker, and Yuusuke went to settle near the hearth, with Keiko at his side.

He had suffered through many trials during this strange and eerie night, but he was safe now, and warm, and back among friends and family who were no longer out to get him.

"And now," said Keiko, turning a toothy smile on him, her eyes glittering dangerously, "about that present...."

-30-

(Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night! Please review!)


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